Housemates
by LisaLovesCurry
Summary: It's Peggy and Angie's first night in the house that Howard loaned them. But why is it so hard to fall asleep?


Hi everyone! After watching the season finale of _Agent Carter_ , I couldn't resist writing this, though obviously it took me a while to finish. (I love Cartinelli, and though so far this is only a one-shot, I might decide to add more later, after I rewatch the first season once or twice. :))

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Marvel Universe, just Cartinelli feels right at this moment.

 _Housemates_

Their first night in what Jarvis had indicated was one of Howard's more modest residences, both Peggy and Angie had their hands full simply trying to get their bearings. After they'd picked their rooms, they spent a pleasant hour wandering the hallways and trying to spot the improvements Jarvis had mentioned. (Peggy, being somewhat acquainted with Howard's active social life, was grateful there were no visible signs of past debauchery.)

"It's a funny feeling, after living in apartments all my life, to get lost on the way to the kitchen," Angie observed.

"A love of extravagance is one of Howard's defining characteristics," Peggy said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I'll never understand why one man needs so many rooms, or so many houses."

"Hey, if I could buy a house like this and throw a party whenever I wanted, I probably would," Angie said. "I still can't believe you're friends with this guy!"

"Well, Howard and I knew each other during the war," Peggy said, smiling at Angie's delighted grin.

"Because of your job—your job as a _secret agent_ ," Angie said in a stage whisper.

"Yes, but if you run into any of our former neighbors, remember that my cover is still the phone company," Peggy said. On the one hand, she wasn't thrilled that Angie now knew her secrets—Peggy knew from painful experience that getting close to people put them in danger. But it was also a relief, not having to lie to Angie, who had become a dear friend.

"I can't believe there were two secret agents at the Griffith!" Angie said. "I mean, fine, one I can sort of accept, but two? Sure, Dottie or whatever her real name was only moved in to try and get to you, but still. It's like something out of a spy novel."

"In my experience, spy novels are terribly unrealistic," Peggy said. "My job is about ninety-eight percent research and investigation, and maybe two percent action."

"You ever see _The Thirty-Nine Steps_?" Angie said. "Oh, I loved that picture!"

"It was entertaining, but let's just say that it strains credulity at every turn," Peggy said with a sigh. "Most of us prefer to become secret agents on purpose, not by accident."

"So you never had a whirlwind romance with a guy you met while on a top secret mission?" Angie said with a grin.

Peggy smiled. For whatever reason, she hadn't told Angie about Steve yet. "Well..."

"Ah-ha, I knew it!" Angie said gleefully. "You gotta tell me—wait, it wasn't one of those guys who came to the Griffith looking for you, was it? That blond one really seemed like a knucklehead."

"No, it wasn't either of them. I'll tell you about him sometime," Peggy said. "But right now, it seems we've finally located the kitchen."

Angie stared into the huge room. "I get the feeling that most of the meals in this place are a little fancier than steak and potatoes. Incidentally, that's about the extent of my cooking skills."

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook either, but if we work together, I'm sure we can fix an edible meal."

"You're on. Let's see what we have to work with," Angie said, opening the icebox and gaping at its contents. "Okay, definitely more high society than steak and potatoes."

"Isn't that steak?"

"Yeah, but a cut of meat like that—it doesn't get much fancier than that, English."

"Well, I'll see if I can't scout out some potatoes if you'll work your magic with the steaks," Peggy said.

Soon, they had a delicious dinner of meat, veggies, and apple pie that Angie had brought from the Automat. It was a pleasant change, getting to eat what they wanted when they wanted instead of having to be sure they were on time for dinner at the Griffith. Peggy would miss the other girls, but she was grateful that Angie had been eager to move to a new, less totalitarian place of residence.

They ate and talked and eventually made their way back upstairs to bed, where Angie worried that she might drown in the huge claw-footed tub in the bathroom attached to her room.

"Goodnight, Angie," Peggy called after turning out her light.

"Night, Peg. Sleep tight!" Angie called back from across the hall.

Peggy lay down in her new, absurdly large bed, and spent the next hour trying in vain to fall asleep. So much had happened in the past few weeks that she was still trying to wrap her head around it all. She was glad that the dangerous contents of Howard's vault had been recovered, and that Howard himself was no longer a fugitive. She was happy to have new friends in Angie, and in Edwin Jarvis. She could never thank him enough for everything he'd done, both as a friend and as a partner during her investigation into Howard's missing inventions.

Of course, thinking of that reminded her of the SSR, and what her role would be there now. It seemed that she had finally convinced many agents that she was in fact a competent member of the team, and she was grateful that she could count on Sousa as an ally. Even Thompson, though eager to be the man in charge now that Dooley was gone, no longer asked her to fetch coffee. After their recent work together, he seemed to genuinely respect her—though he hadn't said as much in front of the senator who had visited the office that day.

But then there was the matter of Dottie: where had she gone, and in what manner might she someday reappear? She'd shown herself to be resourceful, deadly, and extremely skilled at blending in. She could be anyone, anywhere—

Suddenly, Peggy heard a door creak open and footsteps in the hallway. Swiftly, she reached for the gun concealed in the drawer of her bedside table, and it was in her hand when someone slowly pushed open her door.

"Hey, Peg?"

Peggy exhaled and quickly returned her gun to the drawer. "Angie? What is it?"

"This is gonna make me sound like I'm about four years old, but...I can't sleep," Angie said, coming into the room and clutching her robe around her. "I'm not used to sleeping anywhere without other people sleeping in every room and on every floor. Are houses always so quiet at night? I just about jumped out of my skin when the furnace came on."

"I must admit that the quiet is going to take some getting used to," Peggy said. She'd honestly had better nights when she'd slept in war zones.

"Mind if I sleep in here?" Angie said softly. "If we make it through tonight, I think I'll be able to convince myself that a prowler's not gonna break in and throttle us in our sleep."

"Climb in and don't worry about prowlers," Peggy said, pulling back the blankets. "And just to be safe, knock next time, all right? I keep a gun in my drawer, and I was half-convinced _you_ were a prowler when I heard your footsteps."

"Thanks, English," Angie said dryly, getting in on the other side of the bed. "Like any prowler would move as daintily as I do."

"Oh, so sorry," Peggy said, teasing. "I thought prowlers were rather notorious for their dainty steps."

"I guess I should have said 'ladylike' instead of 'dainty,'" Angie muttered, curling up beside Peggy and closing her eyes.

They were both quiet for a few moments, and Peggy was nearly asleep when Angie spoke again.

"Peggy?" Angie whispered.

"Hmm?" Peggy murmured. It had been a long time, but she had dim memories of childhood sleepovers when she'd fallen asleep talking to a friend like this.

"How'd you become friends with Howard Stark of all people?" Angie said quietly. "I mean, anyone who reads the papers knows he's 'friendly' with lots of girls. But I'm guessing he doesn't loan houses to many of them. It seems like you're actually friends, not like you were, you know, romantically involved once."

"No, we never were," Peggy said. "And we are friends. I mean, he can frequently be infuriating, and I once almost killed him when he tried to kiss me—"

"Wait, you did what?" Angie said incredulously, her grin visible even in the dark.

"It was an accident," Peggy said with a smile. "On VE Day, he went in for a kiss and I pushed him into the Thames. I didn't know he couldn't swim."

"Wow," Angie whispered. "So you're still friends even after the almost-drowning?"

"...Howard and I owe each other a great deal," Peggy said slowly.

"Yeah, you ended up as a fugitive but you still cleared his good name," Angie said. "But what do you owe him?"

"Howard Stark is the first man to ever believe in me implicitly," Peggy said. "In his own way, he understands what it's like to have people doubt you, to have to prove yourself over and over again. He grew up in an apartment no bigger this room, and now he's one of the richest men in the country. That takes genius, yes, but it also takes hard work. Howard works harder than anyone I've ever met. I think that's why we became friends—because each of us recognized how hard the other had worked to get to where we were. Each of us has had to earn what we have, and even now, we aren't entirely secure. We still have to prove ourselves."

Angie snorted. "If he can let us just borrow a house like this, I think he's doing alright for himself."

"True, but Howard's life could have completely unraveled this month—he nearly lost everything, his freedom included. And if it hadn't been for quite a bit of detective work, not to mention good luck and the support of Edwin Jarvis, I would have wound up in the same position. So, I suppose we're friends because he trusts me and I trust him. We've each tried, in our own way, to make the world a better place, and we haven't always succeeded. We each have quite a few successes and failures in common, but Howard has always believed in me—and I believe in him. Even when he's unable to resist the urge to flirt."

"...wow again," Angie whispered. "Guess I'd be friends with the guy too, after all that. Maybe he's not such a fat-head after all."

"No, he is, but he's my friend too," Peggy said, and Angie snorted with laughter.

"Gosh, English. Just say the word and I'd be happy to hear more about your exciting life of intrigue."

Peggy shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. Tonight we need to get some sleep."

"Okay," Angie said drowsily. "Night, Peg."

"Goodnight, Angie," Peggy said, closing her eyes. In the morning, she was sure that any nerves they had about sleeping in this huge house would be forgotten; Peggy was certain that they would laugh about how silly they'd been over breakfast. But until then, it was nice to hear the sound of Angie's quiet breathing in the darkness, and it wasn't long before the sound lulled Peggy to sleep.


End file.
